Death be cold, death be quick, death be
instantaneous. Life is lost and loss is
life and I, the fair damsel, future
princess of this rich loved land am left
motherless. Loneliness becomes me, as
father finds love again in the arms of
another. Those arms that first felt warm
are as cold as the icy wind they came in
on. Barren damnation lurks within the
cold eyes of the future queen, who dares
to rule in a stead that never did belong to
her. I think vile thoughts about this vile
beast who steals the heart of my father
with the sharpened tip of her sword, an
action of such brutal brutality that only
Lucifer himself could applaud. I escape
the clutches of this sadist, I am lost in a
strange land. Exotic; alien; unknowable;
I am frightened and alone. This is not my
warm bed; this is not my humble abode;
this is no longer my fairytale never more.
My heart be but broken and the queen
wishes to break it more. My beauty; my
intellect; my passion; it rivals all that she
is evil; her rooted sin unable to take hold
in the Garden of Eden that is mine. She
consults her mirror; her cold mirror of
fallen souls, which dictates to her the
actions that must be taken, to ensure that
I be forsaken. A hunter, lone and cunning,
is called upon to serve. On bended knee he
pleads before her, to be released of the
burden that she commands. But she be but
so wicked in her words that she threatens
him to his core, and not even a warm heart
like mine could dare live against her malice
cruelty. He comes through the forest; I hear
him wandering like a giant, cutting through
the trees. The foliage falls beneath his feet as
he comes to grab my life from me. But my
fair beauty is beyond reason and it captures
him without a doubt. He stumbles upon his
axe, unable to sustain his feelings as he
gazes upon the ravishing impressions that I
was given at birth. Like a seductress, I
have him round my finger, my rosy lips
he longs to pluck; but that is not want I
want from him, for he will help me make
the fate of this world unstuck. He returns
to the hag that hatched his orders and says
that I be dead and with these words the
queen drops her guard; for I be but very
much alive. The lies he tells in my
defence however are soon revealed as the
slanderous masquerade that they are by
the terrible mirror, that shan’t remain
blinded for long. Ravaged by her hatred
to see me struck down dead, the furious
queen, betrayed by her own instruments,
devises a plan of sweet ecstasy. The bitter
dread of her frozen foul heart is poured
into an apple seed, that upon taking root
within the soil births a delicious death. As
I unknowingly take into me the crisp flesh
of the forbidden fruit, the moistness of its
texture hides its killer plan. Like the steel of
her sword, I am crushed beneath this legacy
stolen from me by a woman who sits upon
a throne of deceit; this perilous pile of blood
and gore that the wretched witch has
institutionalised to see me fall from grace.
Like the tree the evil was birthed from, I
am fallen and I ought never to return, for
I know all too well that death is death and
there be no cure to stifle this tragedy. Like
falling into a dream, one of utmost pitch,
I notice nothing of my old existence with
the strength to awaken me. Death may
have stolen my reflection, but the queen
has revealed, unbeknownst to her it would
seem, her Achilles heel. What hubris on her
part to believe that fruit could dare deflower
the petals of my perfect person and like a
bird free from its cage I unexplainably rise
again. My rebirth may be but something I
ought to ponder, however, I’ve a country
that needs my spirit and my aggressive
vengeance is the power this land needs
to be revived. The queen may have her
harlot parlour tricks and her seethed
sword, but in contrast the land has me
and I am all she shall ever need to blossom.
I march with all my fury and charge into the
grounds I once called my own and humbly
take the head of heresy that dared to rule
in stead. Her mirror is but broken with the
touch of my hand, for purity is the strongest
device against wickedness and the last thing
the bastard mirror felt was the unconditional
love of this virgin’s still beating heart. As for
the malice queen, well, we shall not speak
of her again, for upon setting her rancid flesh
upon me, I triumphantly cut her down to size.
Her death signals the end of tyranny and it is
now that my reign shall begin; all shall fall
before my love and never be but broken again.
The moral of this story? That in itself is hard
to tell, but I am certain you know of the
resolved conflict and the conclusion because
you too have fallen under my spell. My
passion shall embrace you and none in
my blood line shall escape such birthright
and from now until time no longer ticks,
everyone will know the story of I, Snow White.
On the day I do pass away, no one
shall dress in black. There will be
no funeral procession; there will
be no obituary; there will be but
a wren on my windowsill, chirping
happily where I never did. Find
comfort in this if you can, for
there is no comfort to be had
here. These words have no
rhyme; no syllable; no purpose;
they are as dead as the dried
blood I left for you; the only
thing I ever left for you; the only
thing I ever did right; left a perfect
puddle where I concluded my
effortless journey. Like my mouth
my wrists are open, like my lips my
wrists are red. I have never seen so
much red before, and it almost brings
a smile. It reminds me of the roses
I once had and in my bodily liquid I
see them again, their petals eagerly
awaiting the opportunity to lick my
wounds. Washed away are my
troubles in the blood in the
shadow of one last ‘good-bye.’ No
note, no reason, there’s none to give.
If you still don’t know why, like you
didn’t know then, I ain’t gonna bother
letting you inside to admire my cuts
and bruises. I’m broken; I’m defeated;
my life source is all but waning. I don’t
have the will to carry on, so I cut down
deep like taking an axe to a tree, my
wrists are felling and I suddenly feel
again. Maybe this ain’t right, maybe I
am wrong, but who’s going to say such
things as my insides flow out around
me onto my navy blue tiles? My life
flashes before me, twilight’s upon me
and as always, you’re not here. The
arterial red draining from my body fills
my heart with so much glee. I’m glad to
be rid of the pain; of me; of you. There
was never a better time to say goodbye
like the present, but the words still fail to
come. Like ‘help’ the vowels and
adjectives become stuck in my throat,
such alien terms gurgling down deep,
frustrating me as always with their
symbolism. I am glad it is over, do you feel
the same? For the record, I ain’t apologising,
I always knew it had to be this way. I
wonder if mommy will be impressed right
now, she never was before. Death is the
cure I’ve been looking for, has it been
the same for you all this time? I’d ask you
to join me in Purgatory, but I’ve been
there already half my life and know it
better than I know myself. I ain’t going to
no better place; I ain’t going to no happy
ending. I’m just going, and this time
I promise you, I will not be coming home.
My Big 100th Post Extravaganza! Lollipops and Sunshine, WordPress Families and my favorite posts revealed!
Yes indeed! 100 posts later and I find myself looking back on the journey thus far! So, without further ado, allow me to proceed…
First off, a couple of weeks ago, Ambitious Poet (http://ambitiouspoet.wordpress.com/) kindly provided me with the Sunshine award. Thank you!
Like with all awards on WordPress there are rules to be followed and this one is no exception.
One: Include the award in a post and/or on your blog
Two: Link back to the person who nominated you
Three: Answer ten questions about yourself (make these up as you go along apparently)
Four: Nominate ten other bloggers who are rays of sunshine
Five: Alert your nominees to the award they have received
Okay, so ten questions about myself? Can’t be too hard, can it? (Looks around anxiously, eyes shifting left to right, palms becoming sweaty as he wipes a bead of sweat from his temple, legs trembling with trepidation as he fumbles across the keyboard)
One: Why did you begin this blog?
I had a number of random pieces that were neglected by publishers in my own country and so thought it would be a good idea to have them published online for others to read. Additionally I wanted to gander the opinion of the wider public to see what people in general thought of my writing. On top of this I believe this was a bit of a confidence building exercise. Ever since I began this blog I have been submitting more and more work to publishers in general, most of whom never reply – those bastards! However, I do try to look at things on the bright side and ever since beginning this blog I have had my poetry published. This accomplishment, along with many of the comments and visits from fellow bloggers that I receive inspires me to continue.
Two: What are your favorite posts thus far?
The favorite posts I have created you mean? I’ll assume that’s what it is…these fifteen out of the total one hundred posts that I have generated thus far are ones that I like based on my own personal opinions rather than on the amount of views they generated. Okay, so my favourite posts starting out at number fifteen are:
15: Just so Perfect: http://wp.me/p24LWs-P
14: Alphabet of Love: http://wp.me/p24LWs-6a
13: Vancouver Sunrise: http://wp.me/p24LWs-8C
12: It’s not Easy: http://wp.me/p24LWs-2p
11: Superman Tonight: http://wp.me/p24LWs-1d
10: To the woman of unimaginable beauty: http://wp.me/p24LWs-2E
9: You, Me and 2013: http://wp.me/p24LWs-7P
8: I live to say I Love you: http://wp.me/p24LWs-6Q
7: This Far Come: http://wp.me/p24LWs-5r
6: Where Thy Wilhelmina Without Love: http://wp.me/p24LWs-4k
5: The Night Melbourne Died: http://wp.me/p24LWs-1H
4: The way it ought to be: http://wp.me/p24LWs-5V
3: Sixty Something Love Quotes: http://wp.me/p24LWs-5N
2: Dear Kat De Lieva: http://wp.me/p24LWs-8w
1: Alexia: http://wp.me/s24LWs-alexia
Three: What are some of your favorite poetic writers?
My favorite poets, in no particular order are William Shakespeare, John Donne, Rudyard Kipling, John Keats (on occasion, although some of his pieces I find a little soporific, no offence intended), Andrew Marvell and Alfred Tennyson. As for Australian poets, Paul Kelly (in moderation) is alright and I have additionally always been partial to Tara Mokhtari.
Four: What are your fifteen favorite video games?
Oh my God! How did you know to ask this question? How did you know I am the biggest video game addict in the entire Southern Hemisphere? Oh, right, probably because I asked the question. Now that the magic is gone it doesn’t seem all that impressive.
Anyway below are my fifteen favorite video game titles, based on the single player campaign only:
14: Doom 3
13: Enslaved: Odyssey of the West
12: Half-Life 2
11: Quake III Arena
10: Mass Effect
8: Halo 2
7: Halo 3
6: Unreal II: The Awakening
5: Bioshock 2
4: Mass Effect 2
3: Halo Reach
2: Halo 4
1: Mass Effect 3
Five: When you were younger, what did you want to be?
Well, when I was six I wanted to be the next David Attenborough, although I think every young child wants to run around with fauna and flora. When I was twelve I wanted to become a video games designer, although to do this one needs to be super smart and in reality I’m a baboon. No, sorry, the word I was looking for was ‘buffoon’, but I think I’m a bit of a baboon as well. When I was 16 I wanted to become the next A-grade actor. Apart from being in a band around the same time I was additionally involved in many acting classes, et al. The problem was that I focused more on writing than on acting and thus, this led to this particular dream of mine becoming unattainable.
Six: What are eleven traits you admire in a potential love interest?
What kind of question is this? Well, you ask and I answer I do suppose…1: Intelligence, 2: Wit, 3: Personality, 4: Soberness, 5: Truthfulness, 6: Kindness, 7: Humour, 8: Dazzling smile and Sparkling eyes, 9: Darkness (internal, nothing to do with skin colour), 10: Enthusiasm towards video games and 11: Beauty
Seven: There’s a party happening, don’t ask me where, but it’s about to go down. What are eleven potential artists that will have to be played on more than one occasion to keep you musically entertained?
(In no particular order) Daughtry, Bon Jovi, Bruce Springsteen, Roxette, IceHouse, Meatloaf, Nickelback, Katy Perry, Rick Springfield, Foreigner, Thirty Seconds to Mars.
Eight: What are some of the favourite things you like about the city you live in?
I’m not exactly what one might call ‘patriotic’ and so there are about as many things I like about Melbourne as much as there are purple elephants. The traffic congestion is horrible, the trains never run on time, the entire city is more overcrowded than a women’s shoe store offering 95% off selected stock, jobs are about as easy to come by as dragon’s eggs and, oh, wait, this is meant to be my favorite aspects of the city. Right…In that case it might very well be the artistic piece titled Cow in a Tree by John Kelly at Docklands.
Nine: What is your favorite colour?
What? This is a cliché question if I ever saw one! Who wrote this? Oh, right, I did (ha ha ha). Yes, well, my favourite colour is no doubt blue; however I am also partial to the colour of my blood and heart (that’s right folks, the colour black!).
Ten: What is your favorite film genre?
I’m uncertain if I stereotypically have one. I generally will watch anything of entertaining worth, depending on the mood I am in at that particular moment. I am incredibly partial to sci-fi, action features with intelligible storylines, dramas and thrillers. I’ll never say ‘no’ to a good comedy and although I used to enjoy horror films, more often than not this particular genre does nothing to impress me no more.
Now, without further ado, the moment you have all been waiting for (maybe not); my ten nominees (in alphabetical order) are as follows:
Everyday Strange and Sacred
Meet Me in Medias Res
The Dainty Damsel
Congratulations people! Again, thank you to Ambitious Poet for the award!
Moving on, additionally in the last week Clouds N Cups (http://cncfashionaccessories.wordpress.com/) graciously stated that I was one of the many bloggers within their online community who were a part of their WordPress family.
After receiving such a kindly mention (and since this is my 100th post after all), I thought that I too would reveal all of the bloggers that make up my WordPress family. Of course, if I happen to forget your name and you believe that you are a part of my WordPress family then please forgive me and do be sure to call me an idiot so I may include you on the list as well. 😀
So, in alphabetical order, here are (some of) the bloggers that make up my online blogging family.
A Girls Guide to Gamer Guy http://agirlsguidetoagamerguy.wordpress.com/
Ambitious Poet http://ambitiouspoet.wordpress.com/
Beatrice Beatrice http://beatricebeatrice.wordpress.com/
Betty Generic http://bettygeneric.wordpress.com/
Clouds N Cups http://cncfashionaccessories.wordpress.com/
Coco J Ginger http://courtingmadness.wordpress.com/
Emo Uncle’s Playground http://theemouncleplayground.wordpress.com/
Forever Poetic http://foreverpoetic.me/
Impressions of a Princess http://gongjumonica.wordpress.com/
Jennifer Stuart http://enjoylifeforonce.com/
Jodi Ambrose http://jodiambroseblog.com/
Karl Weller http://playstationkw.wordpress.com/
Kayla Speaks http://kaylaspeaks13.wordpress.com/
Lauren Sharkey http://ljoysharkey.wordpress.com/
Memoirs of a Dragon http://memoirsofadragon.wordpress.com/
Miichele Seminara http://micheleseminara.wordpress.com/
Nonoy Manga http://nonoymanga.wordpress.com/
Read N Cook http://readncook.wordpress.com/
Recollections of Play http://recollectionsofplay.wordpress.com/
Sam Lueng http://cheeesetoastieandvideogames.com/
Silver Poetry http://silverpoetry.wordpress.com/
Tara Mokhtari http://taramokhtari.wordpress.com/
Tea Girl Diaries http://teagirldiaries.wordpress.com/
The Duck of Indeed http://duckofindeed.wordpress.com/
United We Game http://wegameunited.com/
What’s Your Tag http://whatsyourtagblog.com/
Thanks for reading people! Additionally, thank you to all who have visited, read, liked and commented upon my pieces! I am overjoyed at your contribution and although I cannot find the words to accurately write how this makes me feel, just know that because of this supporting community I have enjoyed writing thees past 100 posts and hope to enjoy writing the next 100 too! I hope you all have a great day!
What is reality if not for dreams?
What are dreams if not for reality?
A house is an endeavour;
a dreamer’s joy if you will,
something that everyone does crave.
It’s an image of belonging,
the roots to a family’s existence,
without which, a family has no place.
A house is but brick and timber;
a home is what you make of it.
A home is an establishment
of everlasting hope and dreams.
She, not it, exists as a symbol
of a family’s undying pledge
to provide the spoils of wealth and riches
to the rightful kin and family’s heir.
One can move away from their first house,
across vast continents if you will,
but a home stays with you forever
and will exist in your memories
and dreams, until the bittersweet conclusion.
A home, like a lover, exists in your heart,
unlike a house that will exist only in your eyes
and the eyes of all who enter your humble abode.
What begins as a house can soon become a home.
By filling her with all your worldly possessions,
your memories, your thoughts and your love,
she soon grows up to become a place
of great warmth and significant happiness
and if you listen real closely to the walls,
the ceilings and the floors, sometimes a home’s secrets
permit their many great stories to be conveyed.
I very much enjoy the home I have made myself inside this house,
and I moreover appreciate the time spent with my loving spouse,
however, I’ve certainly no appreciation for an uninvited guest;
a new arrival to our home, who, for his size, is an intolerable pest.
I was sitting on a rug watching television, and behold there was a flea!
And in-between the ad-breaks he would turn his head and stare lovingly up at me.
I did not know his true intentions, and before I had the opportunity to ask,
he had already leapt in the direction of his endeavour, and set upon his task.
Suddenly he was upon me, and was crawling across my skin.
‘Hey, give me back my blood!’ I cried, ‘else I shall poke you with a pin!
Gosh, I truly wish I did not have what it is that you do need.
Hey, look at what you have done you little pest! You have made me bleed!’
I am unable to speak for the parasite, but this relationship is no good;
I cannot fathom why the flea could not go bother someone else in our neighbourhood.
My residence, it sure ain’t filthy and I do not live in squalor,
so why must my new roommate be an irritable little horror?
I shake my head and wonder aloud, ‘for this infestation, who have I to thank?’
I sincerely hope that the culprit who is responsible does not truly bank
on me rushing over to their houses to meet their families
to announce with a smile, how I’d love to accommodate more fleas.
If I am provided the opportunity, I swear I will not hesitate,
to annihilate the fiendish little bugger, who lives only to masticate.
For that’s all he ever does, upon finding a piece of skin; just chew, chew and chew;
I would be careful dear reader, for sometime soon, he may come calling upon you.
To my step daughter, wherever you may be tonight,
you are the apple of my eye, you are my sunlight.
Liara, I swear, I unconditionally love you the way any father should,
and if you were in danger, I’d sacrifice myself to save you, you know that I would.
You know I loved your mother, and like you, I loved her with all of my heart,
and I’m sorry that the winds of change inevitably forced us apart.
Now, the Pacific Ocean, it stands like a gargantuan wall between both me and you,
but believe me when I announce, I can still feel your love just as you can still feel mine too,
and come June 26th this year, we’ll be reunited once again,
for this father-daughter story of ours, it is the stuff of legend.
Don’t ever believe I’d forget your birthday, I wouldn’t miss it for the world,
and you must know there is no one else out there for me, you are my only girl,
and when I reach American soil, I’ll wrap you in my arms, and kiss you on the head,
and that night, you wouldn’t dream of loneliness, no, you will dream of happiness instead.
At the same time, I will dream of your future occupation;
whether you will be a lawyer, a shrink or a musician?
A journalist, doctorial staff, an actor or a member of government,
like a politician, or perhaps either a Prime Minister or President?
Now Liara, come your birthday you shall be granted my present; a gift of continued support and love,
and the realisation that you are the only angel whom I pray to in all of Heaven above.
SYNOPSIS: Nat Banyon, a man who has been away from his home by the shoreline for several months now returns in the hopes of being reunited with his friends and loved ones and to return to the same exact life that he left.
Warning: There is a weak sex scene in this, but still, a weak sex scene is a sex scene all the same, so viewer discretion should be advised.
The nurse gently pushed me out through the doors and into the light of the sun, the wheelchair bumping along the stairs before reaching the concrete tiles below. Trees rustled around me whilst the wind licked eagerly at their leaves. Numerous vehicles could be seen driving by on the road before me, the bus pulling up in front of the curb. It was a terrific yellow in colour that perfectly matched the sun above, whilst at the same time I grimaced as the nurse unbuckled the strap across my waist.
‘Now you take it easy Nat’ said the nurse, her short blonde hair blowing across her face. ‘That was a nasty hit you took son. We don’t want you back here anytime soon.’ She pushed the hair out from her eyes, revealing the small freckles that were placed evenly across her cheeks.
‘Don’t worry Jody, I won’t need anybody to hold my hand where I’m going’ I said with a smile. ‘Home is where the heart is, that is what they say and I know mine like the back of my hand.’ I smiled to myself before becoming deadly serious once more. ‘I am going to miss you though. You and the rest of the staff’
‘That’s sweet Nat’ said Jody, pointing in the direction of my transport. ‘Hurry along now, or you’ll miss your bus.’
With one last smile I made my way from the wheelchair with my small bag of belongings and up the steps into the interior of the bus. I walked to the back where there was still plenty of space, the trip home giving me the chance to think over all that had happened thus far to make me land in this situation.
Nat Banyon’s the name. I have jet black hair that seems rather irregular for somebody who grew up living on the beach as the generalisation is that every such person like me has to have hair that is light in colour. I have dark brown eyes that look like the coral that is found down on the ocean’s surface and a face and body that has basically been crafted by the ocean.
I originally came from a beach up north, which is where I was headed back to now. Surfing had been my life and Chloe Rivers, the most beautiful girl in school had been my life’s passion. Yet in life there was always competition and in my case it came in the shape of Tyrese Lowman. Not only did he want to be the best surfer, but he wanted my girl as well. That bastard!
Long story short, I wanted to put him in his place and so, we raced. Problem was, not everything went according to plan. On the final wave that would have undoubtedly made me look incredibly awesome in comparison to Tyrese, I was flipped over on my board by an unsuspecting freak wave, slamming my head on a gargantuan rock sticking out of the drink. I don’t remember what happened next, or how the race turned out. All that springs to mind is my body lying on the beach, seaweed in my hair and the bitter taste of salt in my mouth. I didn’t know anything; not my name, not my social security number, but worse of all, I didn’t know Chloe. This alternate version of me was bloody ridiculous in comparison to the original Nat.
Suddenly out of the blue this lime green hippie van pulls out of nowhere and suddenly I’m riding with them. I know it sounds out of this world, but when you’ve no memory the first thing that occurs to you feels like it was the kind of thing you were doing your entire life. I should be glad it wasn’t the manure truck that showed up. Anyway, I end up in their band, lead guitarist and later even background vocals, singing songs about how we hated surfers and loved trees, but especially about sex. Actually, come to think of it, that’s probably what all the lyrics were about really.
I wasn’t very good at singing, but hey, nobody heard me over the blare of the other instruments. Besides, most people came to check out the lead singer, Wynona, this Goth wannabe constantly dressed in black, half her face covered by a unicorn tattoo. Unbeknown to any of the spectators though, she was with me. I know, it sounds terrible, but since I had no memory of Chloe, Wynona seemed like the perfect girl. Now that I think about it though, it scares the crap out of me.
Yet, she was always there though, Chloe. She came to nearly every concert, presumably waiting for my memory to return. She once came up to talk to me, but I shut her down, saying ‘go away surfer chick, we don’t want you here.’ It was later that I came to realise how I had hurt Chloe, after my memory was restored. Well, to an extent anyway.
During this guitar solo this glass bottle is thrown at the stage and hits me square in the head. A few minutes later after the grogginess begins to dissipate, I open my eyes and see Chloe leaning over me. ‘Surfer chick’ I say.
‘Surfer dude’ she replies, the two of us embracing one another.
Anyhow, afterwards I check myself into this hospital to get my memory back and to ensure there is no permanent damage to my brain from the injuries I sustained. Then, I’m sprung free and on my way back to civilisation. I only hope it’s the way I left it. I told Chloe not to visit me. I didn’t want her to see me until I was one hundred per cent once more. God, I bet she looks great!
Upon stepping off the bus and onto the pavement of the town I called home I instantly felt a sense of calm, everything appearing to be exactly the same as I had left it. The stores had not moved out, the fashion had remained the same and even the smell of beach side orange juice and surfer’s gel clung to the air as I smiled to myself before making my way up the street, bag slung over my right shoulder.
I quickly found myself at the local surf store located beside the beach, the gentle pounding of the waves drifting over to where I stood. It sounded as though the ocean was beckoning me back into Poseidon’s graces once more, as though I had never actually left.
My eyes wandered through the maze of necessary surf utensils to the counter where Chloe currently stood, resting her arms on the cabinets beneath her. As predicted, she looked spectacular. Her long blonde hair drifted across the counter, shining under the fluorescent lighting above. Her blue eyes glittered like icicles; her lips moist like the ocean itself; her radiant skin looking like a paradise waiting to be explored. She wore a short red shirt, her black bikini visible beneath it, whilst her brief denim shorts stuck to her body like glue. Looking up she saw me, a smile appearing on her face.
Before I had a chance to move however Tyrese appeared behind her, a dark scowl descending across his features. His tanned skin looked like barren rock under the flare of the lighting, his face resembling that of a caged gorilla. As always he had his shirt unbuttoned at the top to allow ladies to see his three chest hairs. Nothing had changed. He had done the exact same thing back in high school.
Luckily enough though it appeared Chloe was still my one and only girl. God, I just wanted Chloe to throw her legs around my waist so I could rush her over to my place and show her over the course of a few good hours my feelings for her had not changed in the months I’d being away.
I slowly walked over to her, wrapping my arms around her waist whilst staring at Tyrese who looked as though he had something on his mind.
‘Glad you could make it Nat’ he said in a deep, throaty voice. ‘We were all hoping you’d arrive in time for the annual surfing competition tomorrow.’
Chloe looked at me as though she were trying to warn me about the repercussions of my last surf championship.
‘But I’d understand if you’re not man enough to go through with it’ guffawed Tyrese.
‘No’ I grunted suddenly, Chloe appearing surprised, pulling away. ‘I’ll be fine.’
Noticing the signup sheet on the counter I picked up the biro and scrawled my signature amidst all the other wannabe surfing champions. ‘While I was away I spent a gargantuan period of time swimming in the gymnasium pool. I’m ready for a real challenge.’
‘Glad you didn’t lose your reckless attitude when you lost your mind’ grunted Tyrese, ‘see you tomorrow.’
Chloe shook her head as Tyrese walked away, before ushering me out of the store and in the direction of my place.
Upon arriving home Chloe mentioned that she had cleaned my place on a weekly basis since I had left in preparation for my heroic return. She appeared to be doing her best to keep her fears of tomorrow at bay and I did my best not to bring them up. When Chloe went to hug me once more she quickly pulled away after getting a whiff of my clothing. I smelt clean and fresh, whilst she smelt of the ocean. It was absolutely irresistible.
She loathed the hospital smell that lingered in my clothing and insisted on me ripping them off, removing most of the garments herself before rushing me into the shower and turning on the pressure as high as the aging taps would allow, the cold water drenching me from head to toe. It was like a full de-tox, any of the old which had been orchestrated by the knocks to the head being irreparably erased in a single moment in time as I felt the same old me beginning to come back to true form.
As the water ran through my hair and across my body I heard the creaking sound of the shower door opening once more. Chloe slowly clambered inside before closing the door behind her, her naked body joining mine in the midst of the moist arena surrounding us. Her breasts gently rocked from side to side, whilst her hair covered up her nipples which I slowly but surely removed before caressing that particular part of her body. She pushed her flawless body up against me as I felt a part of my body beginning to grow considerably hard as I dragged her face closer to mine before kissing passionately in the confines of the shower. Our mouths filled with both the water from the taps and the salvia from our mouths as I sucked gently upon her tongue, Chloe doing the same thing to mine. She pushed up against me once more and I felt myself beginning to enter her, such an exhilarating experience I had wanted to have happen again since the moment I had arrived in hospital, the mist from the warm water that began to make its way through the taps banning all from seeing inside.
The next day came so fast I barely had time to catch my breath before I suddenly found myself on the beach only minutes before my final showdown with Tyrese.
‘I hope you haven’t lost that fire which made you such a challenging opponent’ he grunted.
‘Not a chance of that ever occurring mate’ I said, ‘not in this lifetime anyway.’
It was a few seconds later after a rush of cool air washed over me that Tyrese said ‘I married Chloe.’
I stood flabbergasted at such words, my mouth opening before I closed it abruptly, unable to believe such a sentence. I was surprised that if it were true why Chloe had not informed me.
‘You’re lying’ I said.
‘Yeah’ said Tyrese. ‘But you know that I would have. If she had let me I mean. You know that I love her, just as you do. So I was thinking we could make this race a little more interesting, just between the two of us. The winner not only gets the respect of the crowd, but wins the heart of Chloe Rivers. The loser packs up his crap and leaves town, forever; which is exactly what you should have done in the first place.’
I shook my head. This was preposterous. I knew instantly there was no way I was ever going to agree to such lunacy, even if he was playing off my massive ego which came with professional surfer territory. There was no way I was going to risk the love of Chloe over some competition that I had already won numerous occasions before. Looking up into Tyrese’s face I smiled, pitying him for such desperate methods. I knew exactly what mattered in life and winning some surf competition was not one of them as I looked into the crowd, my eyes landing directly on Chloe, before I grinned in satisfaction.
‘I forfeit’ I said, turning around to Tyrese before beginning to leave the arena in exchange for a life with the girl of my dreams. Had I made the right choice?
For anyone who has read my former poem ‘Untitled Beauty’, one would know that I based the piece upon a beautiful young woman who dressed up as Jedi Master Aayla Secura from the Star Wars universe for a ComicCon. I do not know her true identity, and I would really appreciate it if someone in the world could actually tell me such information…the link to the image and additional info on this topic can be found in the ‘end notes’ section of the original Untitled Beauty post which can be found at this link: http://wp.me/p24LWs-2H
This here is not a love poem – no, it is a poem of longing,
about hope, prayer, fantasy, discovering oneself and belonging,
which begins as every morning inevitably does. The light breaks through a moderate sized hole in the wall; the ominous ‘they’ call it a window,
but I call it a distraction, for it wakes me from my slumber where I dream I strike up a conversation with a rare beauty by saying ‘hello’,
rare beauty who is you. All the money in the world cannot buy me another minute in this fabulous fantasy,
where I kissed your sumptuously luscious and tender lips and you held onto my big, broad shoulders oh so delicately,
and I fear, the only way to experience this moment once again, is to physically find you and express
‘you are the only lover Untitled Beauty I have been frequently and hopelessly attempting to impress,
for you are the only young woman in all the world, if not the known universe I am constantly thinking of,
my sumptuously delightful lady of whom I hope to forever and always unconditionally love.
It is true, and it is a fact that I do not dare deny, that never have either of us yet met,
but even with that said, you are a young beauty I can never easily in all my years forget,
and if I am supposed to move on from this fantasy, where am I supposed to move on to?
for no one else in this great round world could ever tame this heart of mine for no one else is you.
Additionally, if I am supposed to move on, where am I supposed to go?
for you are the single greatest adventure of all time that I will ever know.
It is also true that I do not know your name, but, my darling, it is a two way street. You could ask ‘what name do you go by?’ and I’d reply ‘you may call me Naughty Nefarious’
and a giggle may suddenly spring forth from the corner of your mouth. I swear it is no joke, for a name is a name, and mine is mine, for my world becomes so much more delicious
the second I lay my eyes upon your pretty face. I feel so invulnerable, but the truth of it all is, I really ain’t all that tough,
and I fear that those three words that mean so much, but also so little, for they are said too often, in regards to you, I have not said enough.
Ma’am, I am certain you grew up in America, where as I’m from down under, from a state far adjacent to that of Perth,
and it would most definitely seem from our noble beginnings when we were born, God wanted to give us both quite the wide berth.
I dedicated my life to writing and gaining a doctorate, whilst you dedicated yours to staying at home,
loyally watching over your loving family with respect, like an unflinching, always trustworthy garden gnome.
In your spare time you use your remarkably athletic form and go dancing in the grim shadows,
whilst back in Australia, not everything is the stereotypical gullies and meadows.
However, what the two of us have in common are the numerous stars that we watch at night, and the clouds all black and blue;
that unusually warm touch you feel right now upon your shoulders young lady – that’s me, romantically thinking about you,
for I frequently hunger for your passionate affection, and I swear I’ll starve without you near,
and I wish we weren’t separated by oceans and continents, I wish you were with me right here.
I often wonder what is happening with the world, and where the old one I once knew and loved inevitably went,
and why all of the once potent emotion is being poured into pain and horror, and if it is emotion well spent.
What happened to the age old conception ‘treat others the way you want to be treated’?
for in this world, truth justice and mercy are sacrificed, and true love is defeated.
I hope this inevitability ain’t my fate, and if so, I ask you, give me another toss at the game of luck, give me a second chance,
for although I ain’t no proud patriot who can fight through thick and thicker, I am a strong believer in emotion, reminiscence and romance,
and I can assure you, I would bleed on the Union Jack to make sure the faithful stripes stay bright red.
No matter whether I’m alive or in my time of dying, I feel there’s nothing more to be said,
but I would ask that you do not become overburdened with sad and depressing emotions and burst into tears for me, and that you happily smile in remembrance instead,
and if the world was plunged into war tomorrow, I would participate if it meant I could keep dreaming about you inside my head.
When imagining a fantasy world in which we know one another I can picture a location of common place where you’re listening to Metallica
over the radio, their awesome rock n’ roll classics ripping through the speakers as you loyally jam to their tunes, before introducing yourself as ‘Aayla.’
It must be an expensive persona you are living as we attempt to guess your origins. ‘No’ you say, ‘I ain’t from Launceston, and I ain’t from Maribyrnong.
No, I am from nowhere near here. Instead, I come from a different place entirely with traditional working man roots, where Bruce Springsteen’s ‘Wrecking Ball’ is the theme song;
where the widely renown Star Wars theme is sung every night before dinner;
where the biggest loser can almost always become the biggest winner.
That’s right ladies and gents, I come from the mighty United States, and I will certainly return there soon,
so if you’ve something to tell me I suggest you confess it real quick, and by that, I mean this afternoon,
cuz come tomorrow I’ll be long gone, and young man, you especially, will be left on your own,
and being a pure blooded California gal and a pseudo Australian I can tell you twice, it’s awful cold when you are all alone.’
I have this uncanny feeling inside my heart and soul, one where I believe legitimately to have already lost you once, but I promise I won’t lose you again twice,
and to this I can assure you to ensure my promise fulfilled, I will commit to anything you ask of me and do whatever you say and I would take any advice,
no matter how fruitless it may seem, for I am officially sick of being alone, and all of this empty space;
I am sick to my stomach at being away from you and wherever you want I will meet you, any time or place.
For if feeling good is a crime (and I’ve never felt this good until I laid my eyes upon you), someone had better lock me up right now cuz I feel fantastic,
and in regards to all of your truth and beauty, and all the love in your gorgeous heart, I have officially become an addict
for you. But when it comes to love, perhaps I am simply and without a doubt incompetent
cuz I fall madly in love way too easily. Then again, perhaps I am a delinquent
for failing to expertly spot the difference between human life, unconditional never ending love and horrifying misery,
but even with this said, if I were to die tomorrow, I would never want to go to Heaven, unless you were up there waiting for me.
To have you rare angel, I will delve deep into formidable places where no hero dare goes,
and upon hearing this you might reply ‘really? Well, tell me Pinocchio, how long is your nose?’
I am no liar, you have to believe me when I say I think I love you, and to ensure your survival, I’d push you out of the way of a nuke.
You won’t ever need to be a fabulously rich duchess for me to love you, but if you were, and you were to ask of me, I’d gladly be your duke.
After hearing these words Untitled Beauty, it might be best that you throw away your key after locking all your windows, and barring all the doors,
and make a pact with Satan, or pray to whomever God you solely believe in, for no existing mortal entity can save you anymore
from my love, which is invulnerable to harm. However, in reality, I have to ask you, in regards to romance, how can it be a good thing if those we love are doomed to die,
after pledging all of our allegiances and our love into their lives, and rare angels such as yourself succumb to destiny and perish, before plummeting out from the falling sky?
But if this unfortunate fate were to become yours, to get you back, I can assure you, I would traverse through the village of the damned,
if it meant eternal happiness could return to me again, and I could one day have my loving heart safely under your command.
When the world is at its darkest, and I’m drowning in the depression of the rain
I simply sit back and gladly admire your beautiful picture once again,
and imagine what you might ask me if we were to meet. You’d enquire ‘Derek, Naughty, whatever title you choose to go by’, before asking what I am going to do for you,
and I’d truthfully reply ‘I would take the stars right out of the night sky if such an act could prove my love alive and whole, and I would paint ‘em pink and purple and even pure gold too!’
It may sound completely out of this world insane, but what I say is not a total fabrication, and it certainly ain’t a ruse;
if given but one opportunity to spend my life with anyone, you are the only person I’d always faithfully choose,
because sweet Aayla impersonator, you are without a doubt one in 7.4 billion.
Dressing up in all those outfits moreover, you look exactly like a saucy chameleon;
you look incredible; you look beyond inhuman; you look flawless; you are perfect undoubtedly,
and with those luscious red lips and that sugar sweet smile I just know you are destined to belong with me.
Sometimes the darkness wakes me up and sometimes the silence speaks so loudly it is deafening to behold,
for whenever I am without you Untitled Beauty, I suddenly feel so indescribably cold,
because it is only in your eyes that I believe I have found where I eternally belong
and never until this moment which stands before me now have I felt so immeasurably strong.
However, in this inhospitable place, I fear I might be labeled the interloper, or the pariah
because of you my darling, for being all that I’ll ever want, all that I’ll ever need; for being my eternal desire,
and, to put a stop to this, people may light up their torches and sharpen their pitchforks too, before coming to claim me,
and will point to those who can corroborate that it was I, the antagonist, who acted with such vile villainy,
for all the boys who look upon you are filled with lustful gluttony, and the women become so jealous
at your unfathomable angelic beauty, and as for I, you make me so romantically ravenous.
Remember when I said this was not a love poem my dear? Well, I have to admit that perhaps I lied,
and if such be the case you could always blame it on the demon I have within this heart of mine inside.
I can assure you, I do not write these words in order to gain power, and I will certainly never need the likes of money or fame,
especially after I win over your beautiful beating heart, for then I will have everything I’ll ever need once it’s you I claim,
and although I still don’t quite know you, from your personality to your values, from your general likes and the neighborhood
you grew up in, judging by your looks alone, you deserve to be erected centre stage in the middle of Hollywood,
and then, once I’ve identified who you are and more, as promised, I’ll spend my life staring lovingly into your eyes forever.
The chance, if even there was one which I doubt, of me falling out of love with you my darling rests somewhere between naught and never,
so if you have ever had grave concerns, I ask that you ‘don’t fret, don’t cry and don’t ever believe
that feelings from your heart unto mine is not the one thing that I have always wanted to achieve.’
THANK YOU FOR READING!